


Prove It

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Business Man Tom Riddle, Dancer Harry, Harry isn't stupid, He doesn't trust people, M/M, Stripper!AU, Tom Wants Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: “You believe me now?”“I… I think I do, Mr Riddle.”Tom held out a card. “Prove it.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 185
Collections: Harry Potter and TMR





	Prove It

Tom glanced around the bar, barely able to hide his contempt for the place. It was darker than he preferred, and the men around him were practically salivating as they waited for the ‘talent’. 

If only Tom didn’t have prospective clients to ‘woo’, he’d never step foot in a place like this, such as it was. 

With a charming smile that he didn’t feel, Tom led Lucius Malfoy and his entourage to a private booth. Thankfully, the venue was clean at least, and Tom managed to sit without fear of something sticky ruining his favourite suit. 

Malfoy and his people looked around with undisguised interest, and Lucius in particular seemed rather pleased with the choice of venue. His eyes strayed to the stage at least once a minute, despite him keeping up with the conversation of those around him. 

Tom sat back and watched for the most part, not rude—never rude—but quiet, watching and listening and waiting. 

He already knew he had the contract in the bag; this was just the niceties that must be observed before ink was printed on the dotted line to secure their deal in place. 

Tom had to remind himself that the money and power that the contract drew—not only as an immediate reward, but the contacts that would be made off the back of it—was worth an evening spent in an undesirable place with even more undesirable company, but it was a close thing. 

Part of him wished that he could just threaten Lucius to sign the contract and be done, but that just wasn’t how business was done these days. 

Shame, really. 

“Oh, it’s starting,” Avery, one of Lucius’ attorneys, said, pointing to the stage. 

Rather obvious, given the way the lights had lowered even further, and the spotlights had hit the stage, but Tom bit his lip and followed the actions of everyone else; turning slightly in his seat to wait for their first bit of ‘entertainment’. 

He could feel them all shifting in their seats, clearly eager, and he sighed, picking up the tumbler of whiskey the clantily clad waiter had placed in front of him with a salacious wink. 

At least the whiskey was of a decent quality. It didn’t make him want to stab anyone in the gut, at any rate. 

It was certainly going to be a long, trying, evening. 

… 

The first three dancers were dull, at least Tom thought so. Exactly what one would expect from such an establishment, and while the majority of the crowd seemed to be thoroughly entertained by them, Tom was  _ bored.  _

So very, very bored. 

Around the room though, there were a few men who seemed impatient, and Tom watched them, curious as to what they could be waiting for. Of course, had it just been one or two, he’d have thought them there for similar reasons as his own, but there were enough to make it noticeable. 

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he excused himself from the table, and walked towards the bathroom. 

His timing was impeccable, and as he washed his hands, he listened to the two men at the urinal. They were talking about ‘Harry’, apparently their favourite dancer. 

He was due to appear later in the evening, and Tom realised that he was the main attraction for many, whether he was billed that way or not. 

Disappointed that the impatience wasn’t for something more than just another dancer, Tom returned to the booth after a quick stop off at the bar to request another round of drinks. 

The evening continued on, and Tom was saved from most conversation now that the dancers had embarked onto the stage; his companions were far more interested in the entertainment than business. 

The drinks flowed, though Tom kept a close eye on his own intake; it wouldn’t do to become complacent this late in the game, and he’d hate to be a second too slow in schooling a slipped expression of disdain and ruin it at the last second. 

He had better self control than that after all. 

… 

“Welcome to the stage, Harry!” 

The announcer slipped out of view as a single spotlight appeared on the stage, glinting off the shiny metallic pole. 

There was silence in the bar, and it almost felt as though the men were simultaneously holding their breath. 

And then the music started. 

It was a sensual sound, not a song that Tom was familiar with, but it seemed to caress his skin almost. It permeated the bar as a lone figure stepped into the light, spinning himself up onto the pole with an effortless elegance that took Tom’s breath away. 

_ Harry was magnificent.  _

Alabaster skin shone, a light sheen of glitter covering him, catching in the spotlight perfectly as the man moved. Dark, messy hair hid half of his face until a movement shifted it, giving Tom a perfect view of stunningly bright green eyes. 

“Holy fuck,” murmured Avery, his tone filled with undisguised lust. “What I wouldn’t give.” 

Tom bit back a growl, his eyes narrowing slightly before he got a hold on himself. He could hardly be possessive over a man he didn’t know, and yet… 

He took a moment to imagine snapping Avery’s neck and smiled to himself. What he wouldn’t give indeed. 

Attention back on Harry, Tom sipped his drink slowly as he watched the boy’s small but fit body writhe and moved up and down the pole, his movements slow, sensual and full of invitation. 

Tom  _ wanted  _ him. 

And what Tom wanted, he usually got. 

… 

He sat in his car, watching the dancer’s entrance at the back of the club, waiting for the young man to exit. 

What felt like an age but was closer to only twenty minutes, Tom finally got his wish. Harry pushed open the door and stepped outside, certainly more clothed now than he’d been before. 

Tom got out of the car, and leant against the bonnet, waiting for him to come closer. 

“I don’t do private functions,” Harry said, offering Tom a tired smile. 

Apparently, Tom was not the first to wait for him; unsurprising and yet still irritating. 

“Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning to ask you too,” Tom replied smoothly. “Rather I was hoping that you’d join me for dinner.” 

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Why?” 

Tom tilted his head. “You intrigue me,” he admitted after a moment. “There’s something in your eyes that I want to know.” 

Harry’s lips tilted up. “That’s a better answer than most I’ve been given.” 

“Oh?” 

“Hmm. People are usually more interested in whether I’m double or triple jointed.” 

“While I certainly wouldn’t mind finding out the answer to that question in due time, I’m more interested in finding out about the man, than the body.” 

Okay, so that was almost a lie. Tom wanted to know  _ everything,  _ mind, body, heart. Soul. 

He wanted to  _ possess,  _ to  _ own,  _ to  _ destroy and rebuild _ , only to destroy again. 

Harry chuckled. “Give me your hand, Mr…?” he trailed off, waiting for a name. 

“Riddle. Tom Riddle.” 

“Give me your hand, Mr Riddle.” 

Tom held his hand out and waited. Harry held it gently, and it was almost an electric current where their skin touched. It just made Tom ache even more. 

Harry slipped a pen from his jacket pocket and with a careful hand, wrote a number on Tom’s hand. 

“Call me, Mr Riddle, and perhaps we can schedule dinner.” 

Tom smiled. “As you wish, Mr…?” 

“Potter.” 

“As you wish, Mr Potter.” 

… 

Tom rang the next day, only to be sent immediately to voicemail. He tried not to take it personally, but when the same thing happened three more times during the following few days, he realised that he was being  _ ignored.  _

That, or Harry hadn’t given him the right number to begin with. 

Oddly, that just made Tom want him more. 

Despite his misgivings, Tom returned to the bar a week later, though this time, he drank water and waited only long enough to ensure that Harry was, in fact, there. 

For the second time, he waited with his car for Harry to slip out of the back entrance. 

When he did, Tom noticed the widening of his eyes, and then the small smile that appeared on Harry’s face. 

“I didn’t see you inside,” Harry said, stopping only a few steps away from Tom. “I looked for you this week.” 

Tom glanced at the building. “It’s not my idea of fun,” he replied. “I was only there at all because of a work commitment.” 

“So you were being honest when you told me you weren’t only interested in the way my body moved on the pole?” 

Tom chuckled. “I don’t believe those were the words I chose, Harry, but yes, I was being honest when I said that I wasn’t only interested in your body.” 

“Huh. That… is surprising. I’m sorry I gave you a false number.” 

Tom arched his eyebrow. “Are you?” 

Harry nodded. “Truly. Doing what I do… it’s not often people tell the truth when they say they’re interested in anything beyond the sexual.” 

“You believe me now?” 

“I… I think I do, Mr Riddle.” 

Tom held out a card. “Prove it.” 

… 

Harry called an hour after Tom drove away from the bar, and they made plans for dinner the following night. 

Tom smirked to himself as he let himself into his apartment. It wouldn’t be long now until he no longer had to schedule time with Harry. 

That man would be  _ his.  _


End file.
